Bruises, Dirt, and All
by The Wayfaring Strangers
Summary: 'Who did this to you-' The words rip out of him at the sight of Steve – Steve curled up around himself and sporting another black eye, a a split lip, and two handfuls of scraped knuckles. (Or, the one where Steve can't keep his big mouth shut and Bucky mostly just wants to hit something.)


'Who did this to you?'

The words rip out of him at the sight of Steve – Steve curled up around himself and sporting another black eye, a a split lip, and two handfuls of scraped knuckles. And Bucky could kick himself a second after for the way his back slumps and the light leaves his eyes. It's not as if he shouldn't want to go and kick the butt of whatever jerk did such a number on his tiny friend. But this is _Steve_ and anytime Bucky comes in with his fists flying and saves the day is another red entry in the Steve Rogers Ledger of Self-Reliance.

So he settles for a sigh and steers Steve's skinny shoulders toward the kitchen sink. Water rushes over the rag he grabbed, tepid in the heat of summer. Bucky presses down on one bony shoulder and Steve drops half-hardheartedly into a chair. He sighs. He wheezes just a bit. No names are forthcoming as Bucky scrubs away the dirt from his friend's face and hands – narrow, pale forehead and narrow, pale fingers – but he has his ways.

He'll see tomorrow which loud-mouthed, smooth-talkin' idiot is grinnin' at Steve's bruises. And he'll wallop that big jerk a good one, because that's how it goes: Steve squeaks up. Steve gets hurt. Bucky goes hunting. Bucky hurts back. And that's how it'll go this time. Just like clockwork. You'd think people would learn to quit messin' with Steve by now. But either Bucky isn't scary enough or Steve is just too perfect a target or both or – or the thought sets his blood to boiling.

But for now, he just washes the blood and dirt away in silence, and then digs around for bandages. They go on like this, one hand and then the other, til Steve starts to fidget and Bucky knows it has nothing to do with the stinging cuts. His throat bobs and he looks almost shyly at Bucky kneeling there. Pale hair hangs limp in his eyes. And Bucky thinks, here it comes. _You don't have to help me. I'm strong enough. I can manage. I can pick my own fights_ , and the whole string of _I's_ and _You's_ that Steve always spits out, embarrassed, until Bucky wants to scream, _But you don't have to!_

It's not as if Bucky's ever going to leave him alone.

But instead, he gets a soft, 'Thank you, Buck.'

And Bucky can't help it. He smiles real big and reaches out to ruffle Steve's hair.

'Aww, that's what friends are for.'

It's a trite sentiment, and they both know it, but sometimes the hackneydest, most threadbare sayings are really the truest after all. And, Bucky thinks, you really have to find the truth of them all for yourself. No-one can tell you, or it sounds like a platitude. And you can't tell anyone, either, because it's going to sound like, 'Hey! C'mere! I've discovered a platitude!' And who would listen to that?

But across from him, Steve's jaw works for a minute and his mouth opens and them closes again without saying anything. And then he jumps up and then a warm, bony weight settles against Bucky's chest and a warm, bony nose clonks into his collarbone. Huh, Bucky thinks, that little not-platitude must have gotten Steve good, because he really isn't the huggy type.

But it does feel kind of nice, despite the hot, sticky day. So Bucky smiles crookedly and gives Steve a squeeze, bruises, dirt, and all.

. . .

 _A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity_.  
 _Proverbs 17:17_

. . .

 _So, it turns out I'm not quite done with fanfic here. :) This little thing was shaken out of me by the post-credits scene in Ant-Man. It hurt so much, but it was so good. Steve and Bucky really are one my my favorite Marvel BrOTPs and I hope this did them justice. :) This story also fits into my Winter Soldier fall-out 'verse as a sort of prequel._

 _But it's still true that on a broader note, this may be the last story I publish here - I have one or two other plot bunnies, but no solid ideas yet and College is looming in the distance. So don't write me off as a lost cause just yet, but if I fall suddenly silent, at least you will know what doom (DOOM?) has befallen me._

 _Thank you all once again! God be with you,  
-RandomCelt_


End file.
